


When The Stars Fall From The Sky

by Queen_Walrus_Approximately



Category: 1960s Music Scene RPF, The Doors
Genre: Forbidden Love, Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Walrus_Approximately/pseuds/Queen_Walrus_Approximately
Summary: Jim is in big trouble when the mafia targets him. They are relentless in their persuit and nothing but death will stop them. But who's death will that be?





	1. "That Guy Oughtta Have An Accident".

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dana_ohara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dana_ohara/gifts).



Frank was sitting in his office, enjoying an afternoon smoke and watching the city below through his high rise pent house, listing to the radio on the top hits station. He enjoyed the sights and sounds of this city, Las Angeles. It was peaceful compared to the daily toll of New York City. Taking a final drag of his cigar, Frank reached over to the ash tray and stubbed it out, and turned up the radio a few notches. Just then, The Doors' new hit, "Touch Me", came on. Frank frowned deeply in discontent as he listened to the song. That lead singer, mysterious and dark Jim Morrison, once stated in an interview that his new inspiration was Frank Sinatra himself, and idolized him greatly. Mr. Sinatra was not at all flattered, though. In fact, he was very displeased with that notion, as the man was not a fan of rock n roll, or with the fact that Jim Morrison was receiving more success with Frank's crooning style than the man himself. Disgruntled, Frank stood from his armchair placed in front of the window and strolled over to his telephone. He dialed an old friend of his that could handle the little problem Frank had with this rising musician. After all, people have fatal accidents all the time...


	2. One Week Later

Jim Morrison was sitting in the very back corner of the bar, getting wasted as he did every night. The burden of knowing the meaning of life and death and everything in between was too heavy of a burden on him, and the only way to cope was by altering the state of his mind constantly. You see, Jim is a seer. He knows if someone he holds dear to his heart is going to die, and how they'll die, but he never knows who. He knows is someone is about to entire the world, but never who is about to become pregnant. As of tonight, Jim saw his own ending, but that's the extent of the vision. He can't even save himself. He knew his time here was up.   
Sighing, Jim took another deep drink from his beer mug, eyeing the crowd. One woman caught his eye. She had bright red hair and was wearing all black leathers. She was already staring at him when he looked over at her. The redhead gave him a seductive smile and flutter of her lashes, suggesting she wanted to get to know him. Jim, standing up, gestured for her to follow him. He walked over to the bathrooms and looked over his shoulder, seeing the woman promptly sashaying over to him. When she was in front of him, staring up into his own blue eyes with her hazel ones. There was a façade of innocent to her; her tussled hair and red painted lips spoke otherwise.   
Jim turned and opened the bathroom door, then locked it behind them. The girl sat up on the sink counter and pulled him close, in between her legs. They kissed passionately, tongues dueling for dominance, hands groping and caressing. Jim ran his hands over chest, shoulders, around her back and up under her shirt. He began to reach for her bra, until he felt the edge of something cold and metallic in the back of her little black skirt. He reached down and traced it. He froze.  
A gun.  
Suddenly, the little red headed lady was no longer the horny girl he was just hooking up with, but rather a trained assassin. She kicked him back with her stilettoed feet and reached behind her to grab her gun. Thinking quickly, Jim looked around for something to hit her with or throw at her to distract her, but could only find a plunger. He threw it, and to her disgust, it hit her in the face. Her shot went right past his head. Jim scurried up and ran out the door. He held it closed as she pushed against it again and again. Sensing she was about to put all of her effort into budging the door, he let go and she collapsed through the opening. In a desperate act to get out of this situation alive, Jim stomped on the woman's head until she stopped trying to get up. He stared at the bloody mess he created, then quickly left out the back exit of the bar, running through the alleys on his way to his house. Someone was going to see the dead woman's brains and call the police, but Jim didn't care. He just had to keep running, get as far away as possible from that area as possible.  
That was no coincidence, Jim thought later, out of breath, his adrenaline wearing out. Someone hired a gun on me, but why and who? Jim pondered. About a block from his house, Jim stopped. I cant go back there, he realized. If I do, it could mean my death. But who could I trust? Jim agitated.

At this point Jim was lost in the slums. dogs barking, couples yelling, and groups of delinquents standing under street lights greeted him as he walked through the neighborhood. After an hour Jim decided to use a payphone and call up Robbie. Waking from his sleep, the man was a bit groggy and irritated by the call, assuming it was a drunk request for a lift, but he obliged and agreed to meet him at an agreed upon address.


End file.
